Why We Fall
by Grimm Dolly
Summary: Drabble. Aperture's come under new management - And they're willing to take whatever they want, destroying and rebuilding until nothing's left...


**Author's Note:** Drabble. After nearly two days with no sleep, the things that come to mind are little more than emotional bursts of drabble...

* * *

All of this had moved past the point of being bearable long ago. How long had it been since the men in white had come? Their polished buttons had gleamed in the fluorescent lights, polished like mirrors. So silver, so exact. A straight line of buttons that blinded the optics and severed the nervous system in the brain. At least, that's what it felt like had happened. There were so many of them, and their approach hadn't been detected. Their intrusion had gone unnoticed. Crawling through the rifts between walls – up and down like spiders seeking the highest vent to dangle from. When they'd finally found their destination, they descended in a flourish and took over everything.

He remembered in painful clarity the screams. At first, it was just her, screeching at the top of her capacity for them to unhand her. To let her be. No, don't touch that! Leave that alone! They didn't know what they were doing – the whole place would come down on them! She wasn't concerned for them, of course. She would have killed them herself if given the opportunity. This place was hers. She controlled it, commanded it. Kept it tidy and immaculate. Now, dirty footprints littered the floor. Small devices hung from her suspended cables, giving control to the men in white.

And now, there was crying. Not true wailing, like a child would make. But a deep-seeded, sad whimper. It resounded in his own chest, which caused him to look down. In his arms, he held a little ball of a woman. Curled so tightly against herself was she, that even against his tall, lanky frame she almost disappeared. Fingers stained with grime and old life-giving fluid lifted to touch her hair. Once, it had been such a pretty, pristine white. Now, it was off. More gray than anything. Dark splatters stained it – blood from those she'd killed while she had the chance. They never even bothered to clean her up.

He couldn't stand seeing her like this. Bad enough that he still wasn't used to seeing her with legs, arms... Two beautiful, glowing, sun-kissed eyes. But now, she lay broken against him, too weak to do anything but weep dry tears. At first, he couldn't understand why she was crying. She'd been silent for days, simply listening to his ramblings when he didn't even know he was speaking. He knew, though, that she liked his nonsensical babble better than the silence. It relaxed her against him, clenched in his arms that were like a vice around her tiny little body. Yet, they were never strong enough to keep them from taking her away again.

Like now. Ah, that's why she'd begun whimpering again. A door slid open, and in walked a small army of the men in white. Three of them stood aside, three came forward. Their grabby, fleshy hands reached down. Smelled sterile. Burned the sensors in his nostrils. As soon as they touched her, they were stained! Not with the grime covering her, but with the damage they'd already inflicted, and the rest that would come soon. As always, he clung to her, brought her tighter against his torso. His lips found the top of her head, nose nudging into her hair. He whispered…

"It'll be alright, love. I'll fix it. I'll fix it…"

And she screamed as they tugged her body free from him. Uncurled, she looked so tall, but that had everything to do with the long legs she had and nothing else. She was a foot shorter than him, easily. Her hair flew around her face as she began to struggle. All he could do was sit there, unable to stand, unable to fight for her. He was meant to stay at her side, to keep her calm, to assure her that she didn't need to be so hurt and so angry! But now, he couldn't even justify that logic.

"Let me go! No! Nonono**_stopit_**!"

His eyes, dimmer blue than they'd ever been, watched still as they laid her out on the table in the center of the room. They held her down, secured her to it. Spread out on the surface like an erotic centerfold that had been run over by a dirty tire. Cringing, he tried to look away, but as soon as she cried out again, his eyes were all on her. They'd torn her open again. Her head lolled backward on the table, hanging over the edge, staring at him upside-down. Those eyes, those brilliant, perfect, sunshine yellow eyes flickered. They never even bothered putting her in stasis when they did this! 'For science,' they said. Mocked her. Mimicked her cruelty to an uncanny perfection that sometimes exceeded anything she could have ever done! At least she had her reasons. This was… Unwarranted at best.

"Please," she whispered. "P-lll-eas-sse." Her voice was cracking. He tried not to look at what they did with their hands. Instead, he locked eyes with the woman, trying not to reflect that he could still catch movement in his peripherals. They pulled things from her, put things in. Something made a terrible, shrill noise that caused her to scream again. Couldn't they understand? She felt pain! She felt it so acutely that her optics dilated as if she were crying real tears that her body was not designed to create. And he felt it, too. He was almost sobbing, the anguish he felt almost as tangible as hers. "M-maa-kkee… Make them-mm. Sto-o-op."

"I can't, love. I can't."

"Help-p m-me!"

"I can't…"

Suddenly, he was cold. So very cold. An emotional kind of cold that was familiar and new all at once. Why was it necessary that he had to sit on the floor, curled into a ball and watch as she begged quietly for them to leave her alone? Her small hands grabbing at their wrists and lab coats, gently pulling on them. Her usually strong voice coming in raspy whispers. It was so scary… They were scary.

And they wondered why she would always turn against them, why she would murder humans on mass scale. Why wouldn't she? She had never met a human that was ever kind to her. And now, they were pillaging her body, violating everything she was made of to accomplish… Something? What exactly that something was, he didn't know. He might never know. It was all he could do to keep from covering his eyes now. The only reason he didn't was because he knew that staring at hers comforted her. His eyes, they were like ice on a burn. She didn't scream so loud. She didn't fight so hard, making things worse for herself…

When they were done, they haphazardly closed her up again. One of them grabbed a limp wrist, dragged her off the table, letting her fall to the floor with a strange, jarring sound. It was like knife to bone. A sound he knew he'd never be able to forget. Still holding onto her arm, the man in white dragged her over to the corner again, tossing her poor, used body at him as if she were nothing. The man snorted, looking down at him as he scrambled to collect the little female and bring her back to him.

"Don't get too clingy," warned the man in white. His coat was stained with fluids – some clear, some the color of oil. Varying degrees of both. "When we don't need her anymore, neither will you."

He could feel the tightening of the body in his arms. She curled again, like a little ball, and he held her. His own coiled, as well, but like a snake. Wanting to strike out. Wanting to hurt something. In his mind, he could see what it would be like to twist the neck of that man, leering down at them like they were animals. Grinning like a maniac, sadistically receiving pleasure from the pain he caused. Unjust pain, at that. This logic was familiar to him. Once, it was directed at the little thing in his arms. Now, suddenly, he understood her hatred.

"You'll never kill her, mate. Thought you'd like to know. I'll fix her, and when I do? She'll **_destroy_** you."

The man only laughed at the seriousness in his eyes. At the promise in his tone. That was okay, though. He knew better than that man did. The little body in his arms was all-powerful in this place. Though he remained silent until they were alone again, his grip never lightened. As the silence fell around them, he finally sighed, kissed the top of the woman's head.

"I'll fix it. I'll fix you, love." Wasn't that what he promised every day? Today, she was oozing out onto his shirt, staining it from the damage they'd done. Her eyes stared blankly to the side, flickering dim, then bright, and dim again. "Please believe me. You're getting out of here tonight. With or without me, yeah?"

For the first time since this nightmare began, he felt her move on her own in his arms. She writhed, wiggled, and straightened. It seemed to cause her pain again, so weak and broken as she was. As her eyes found his and locked on, there was no match for the euphoria that washed over him to see that they looked like glowing marigolds, so bright in their sockets that it almost blinded him. There she was…

"Moron. **We** are getting out of here tonight…"


End file.
